Night Songs

Night Songs

by Thomas Kinsella

1

Now, as I sink in sleep,
My heart is cut down,
Nothing—poetry nor love—
Achieving.

*

Turns again in my room,
The crippled leopard.
Paw-pad, configured
Yellow light of his eyes,
Pass, repass, repass.
Quiet, my hand; he is tame.
Soon, while I dream, will step
And stir the sunken dawn.

2

Before I woke there entered in
A woman with a golden skin
That tangled with the light.
A tang of orchards climbed the stair
And dwindled in the waxen air,
Crisping the midnight,
And the white pillows of my bed
On apple-tasted darkness fed.
Weakened with appetite
Sleep broke like a dish wherein
A woman lay with golden skin.

We move on from our recurring summer theme to one that I like and think about quite frequently: dreams. Oddly enough, I also have a puzzle of a drawing/painting by this author, who I guess is also an artist? But I suppose that word covers all manners of sins of creativity, right? ;)

Part 1 seems to be when the author goes to sleep and begins the process of quieting his body and his mind. The 'hand' and 'leopard' refer to the author's constant need to write and compose during the day, which now at nighttime he must put to rest.

I suppose the 'woman with a golden skin' represents his wife or lover, someone to cause him to awake from his slumber. Or, it could be the 'golden' sun...rousing him from his sleepy state to again live in a world where his writing takes precedent before all other things. To begin the day is to begin the writing process; I think, ergo I write. Nighttime is for reflection, for free range of thoughts without control of the artist, the subconscious and creativity resting to begin another day...

Bed in Summer

Bed in Summer

by Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

I really like this poem - simple and sweet, just like summer. This season, especially in New England, goes by very fast and we often find ourselves staying up late when the light is still in the sky. The beautiful colors of summer (yellow, blue) make it hard to fall asleep when there's endless splendor all around us. The sun and the sky conjure the idea of everlasting peace and happiness here. Definitely makes me grateful for the lovely days on those cold winter nights...

Long live summer!! :)